Tranquility Broken
by Tavaril
Summary: Aragorn dreams of Lothlórien after Helm's Deep... a semi-Mary Sue shows up (does it count as such if she's a semi-Mary Sue of some other than me?). More based on events in the movie, but LotR is only listed under books (s'ok, the books are better anyway)


Suilad!

Before you read, a few things:

1. If anyone can come up with a better title than this, please let me know.

2. I know this story leans towards being Mary Sue-ish, but I am not a blonde fifteen-year-old fangirl! Teenaged, yes, and fangirl, maybe just a little around the edges, but... um... am not blonde. Yeah, that's it. Anyway, at least it's not another Legolas swoon-a-thon.

3. Yes, I have read the books. Yes, I know Haldir isn't even *at* Helm's Deep in actuality. So this is obviously based on the movies, isn't it?

4. This is sort of my first attempt at any sort of fanfic, so I'm trying to keep it short. Any feedback (yes, including flames) is welcome.

5. Finally, everything Middle-Earth-ish belongs to the brilliant Professor Tolkien (and maybe just a teensy bit to those New Line Cinema people) and is in no way mine, obviously.

Tranquility Broken

It felt as if ages had passed since Elven boats swept them away from Caras Galadhon, ages since Boromir had been slain and the fellowship broken. Tears and smiles had been given, if in far from equal measure, many times since that day; even now, a heavy cloak of melancholy covered the days and nights. He sorely missed the comfort found in the realm of Lord Celeborn. At the leave-taking, those many days ago since they left, the lady Galadriel had told him that they would not meet again. Given these circumstances, Elessar was not expecting to open his eyes and find the woods of Lothlórien there to meet his gaze. The obvious sprung to mind:

_This is a dream_.

But there had been too much bloodshed and misery on the previous day for him to care. Gray-green leaves turned up in the breeze, and everywhere, noise was drowned in a mass of tranquility. Elessar allowed the silence to wrap itself around him like a down blanket. For just a few minutes, he would surrender himself to the bliss of the wood. The next day might be a mess of strife and duty, but come what may, he would have this moment of peace for none but himself.

The peace lasted for all of two minutes before Elessar sat forward, alert; he could clearly hear a voice. It was singing.

He tried to go back into his peaceful reverie, but the moment of stillness was gone. All around him, the woods, which only a moment before had seemed light and magical had become mundane, just another part of the world scarred by his presence. Rising, he slowly started off in the direction of the voice, silent footfalls leaving no mark on the forest floor.

Passing through a labyrinthine grove of slender trees (surely this was not the Lothlórien of his memory), foliage gave way to a small clearing. In that clearing, Elessar could clearly see a young Elf maiden stretched out on a rock. Her arms stretched out and back from her body, fingers tracing the contours of the earth. They ran deep into the soil and glided over the moss, caressing every inch of the ground as if it were the body of a lover. And all the while, she sang.

The girl resembled a human of no more than fifteen, but Elessar did not bother trying to guess her age, for the ages of Elves are near impossible to tell merely by sight. She was no great beauty; her green eyes were a little to thin, too pale, and too far apart. Her cheekbones lacked the normal Elven definition, and her mouth was just a little too full. Her nose was a funny, rounded little knob; it twitched, smelling the air as if it were the sweetest perfume. Her blonde hair was too pale and fine, even for an Elf, to be considered beautiful.

But she sang. Her voice was not extraordinary, but it was so thin and pure, floating among and above the trees, up to the very heavens themselves. So innocent.

The girl caught sight of Elessar watching her. Head cocked to one side, she examined him with a curious, grave manner, often found in children. "_Mae govannen,_" she said. "Are you lost, sir?"

He smiled. "No, I am not. I move freely about these woods, as do you."

They studied each other, and the stillness seemed to return. This time, though, Elessar was the first to break it. "Why do you press and study the ground so?"

"It feels nice. It's so lovely and warm under the moss, and it feels so _alive_."

"Is that why you sing?"

The girl nodded. "There is so much beauty in the woods, sometimes too much for me to take it all in. I just sit here for hours on end staring at the sky, or the leaves, or the ground. I want to be part of it; I want to be as beautiful as all of it. I can't keep that wanting inside, so I sing. And when I do, I feel myself _reaching_, reaching into the spirit of the place, becoming as ancient as this earth and stone."

In spite of himself, Elessar laughed. "You are not so ancient."

She too smiled. "Too often am I reminded of that! But still, I think, I am older than you. I am almost old enough to take a husband!" She paused, tilting her head one way and then the other, as if to scrutinize him more closely. "What is your name? I think I have seen your face before."

"I am..." Elessar paused and shook his head; even he did not know who or what he was. "...known by many names. You may call me Elessar, and I passed through these woods not long ago. What is your name?"

"Lirulin."

"That is an apt name for one with so fair a voice," he said, for in the High Speech of the Noldor, _lirulin_ is a lark. "So tell me, Lirulin, have you chosen one to be your husband?"

Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I have found one, if he will have me. He is a marchwarden, one of the Galadhrim, and he is the strongest and fairest of them all. I caught sight of him near the borders of Lothlórien, standing guard with his brothers, and I knew that he was the one whose face has lingered in my dreams."

Elessar held back from smiling at the girl's naïveté "The Galadhrim are not unknown to me. Does your marchwarden have a name?"

"Of course he does. He is called Haldir of Lórien."

Elessar's smile faded. The girl continued.

"I saw him take many troops towards Rohan not so long ago. They were armed for a great war! Perhaps he will come back a hero, and I will make songs in honor of his brave deeds."

After a silence that stretched out into infinity, Elessar finally spoke:

"Haldir?"

Her eyes lit up. "Do you know him, then?"

Elessar nodded, numb with the harsh return of reality.

Lirulin took no notice of his abrupt change of demeanor, lost in a world of her own. "Maybe then, after he has come back from the war and I am of age, he will fall in love with my songs and not mind that I am silly and scatterbrained and that I stroll through the woods of Lórien all day for no reason at all." She leapt up, face questioning. "You know him, Elessar. Do you think he might have me for his wife?"

For a moment, Elessar allowed his gaze to meet Lirulin's, her young eyes bright with the gem of hope.

_"Na barad! Na barad!"_

_Shouted instructions to the already-retreating troops. A cry to the battlements._

_"Haldir! Na barad!"_

_He nods, and takes up the shout, ushering his men to safety, not noticing as the knife slips in..._

_Momentary shock, then realization._

_He is clutching the wound in his side; he does not notice the Uruk behind him raising his weapon..._

_"Haldir!"_

_Must get there. Why can't I get there in time?_

_"Haldir!" _

_The blade swings down. _

_Life fades; see it in his eyes? He looks about, last images of filth, gore..._

_Elves are immortal, evergreen. This, this end... this is not right._

_And even as I reach him, I am too late even to tell him that he will not die alone. I catch him. I see the flame of life in his eyes extinguished._

_No one should have to see that._

Elessar wrenched himself away from the image, wrenched himself away from the dream, unable to meet dream-child's gaze any longer. His voice was soft and hoarse as he spoke. Unable to answer the girl directly, he replied to the harsh night sky.

"I do not think so."


End file.
